


Day 19 - In formal wear

by elessar_undomiel



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge - Johnlock [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, John and Mary's Wedding, John loves him too but they're two idiots and they don't realise it, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elessar_undomiel/pseuds/elessar_undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Into battle' Sherlock repeated to himself, pushing the door open."</p><p>The missing wedding scene, through Sherlock's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 19 - In formal wear

“Into battle” Sherlock repeated to himself, pushing the door open. John was standing in the middle of the room, staring into the void, arms hanging at his sides. He turned to Sherlock and smiled; Sherlock forced himself to do the same. “Is it time to go already?” John asked. “Yeah, few minutes left”

Few minutes and John would walk into the church, few minutes and John would get married. Mrs Hudson’s words floated in his mind. He was losing him.

He straightened his shoulders and forced himself to get closer. He reached out his hand, but what for? What the hell was he doing? Brushing his cheek? Caressing his hair? Grabbing his face and kissing him? God, John was getting married, he couldn’t ruin his big day pissing him off, and most of all he couldn’t let John hate him, because if John hated him he could be sure he would never see him again. So he just fixed his boutonniere, only allowing himself to let his hand brush along John’s chest when the flowers were perfectly arranged. One last touch before ‘the end of an era’, before losing him for Mary, forever. He felt John stiffening under his fingers: thank God he hadn’t run the risk of a more intimate contact.

“Perfect” he said. He couldn’t say more. He couldn’t say “You’re perfect”, John would have caught at least a glimpse of its meaning, and Sherlock couldn’t let that happen. So he limited himself to the adjective, as though it was referred to the flowers. And probably that was what John had thought, because his face was inexpressive as he reached to fix Sherlock’s tie: thank God he had misinterpreted everything as the last fixes before the rite. Sherlock’s skin burned where John’s hand was pressed against it. “Perfect” John whispered withdrawing his hands and lowering his gaze.

He was clearly nervous behind the facade. Sure he was, he was getting married. He was getting married. Sherlock needed to repeat it to himself, because he would never survive the next hour if he didn’t realise it as soon as possible.

He smiled, the most fake smile of his life, which was mirrored by John, and forced himself to move.

* * *

John was stunningly beautiful, his back straight, the gold of his hair emphasised by the warm light. He smiled when Mary arrived. Sherlock was relieved, though: that wasn’t his smile, the one John shared only with him, the one that made his eye sparkle. But that didn’t matter anymore: John belonged to someone else now.

He hoped John would change his mind. He knew it wouldn’t happen, but he hoped. He even considered running there and pushing Mary away and begging John to love him. But nothing happened. John made his vows. John made his vows to the person he loved the most, and that person wasn’t Sherlock.

And Sherlock saw them kissing, though he didn’t really see them. He was remembering. He was remembering when he had come back, when he had seen John’s moustache in Mycroft’s photograph. He had imagined how it would feel to kiss John now. He had planned everything during the two years he had been away: he would have gone to him, told him he was alive and confessed his love, and John would have been pissed off for a moment maybe, but then he would have forgiven him and they would have kissed and everything would have been perfect again, and more than ever. Maybe John had a girlfriend, but it didn’t matter, he would have left her because Sherlock had always been more important than his girlfriends, and they both knew it. And so he had thought about the change in his plan due to that awful moustache, and he had decided that he didn’t care, they would have kissed anyways. And then John would have shaved it off. But John hadn’t forgiven him immediately. He had, after a while, but he definitely hadn’t left his girlfriend. Fiancé. Bride, now.

Sherlock came back to reality and realised he had clenched his fists enough to break the skin of his palms with his short nails. Everybody was clapping, and Sherlock forced himself to smile and do the same. His arms had never felt so heavy.

He had born the dinner, he had made his speech, he had tried to keep breathing when John had hugged him, he had played the violin and watched the couple dancing, he had revealed them Mary’s pregnancy. But he couldn’t stay anymore. He had done everything for John, but he couldn’t do this to himself. He had left, Mrs Hudson’s words in his head again: ‘Who leaves a wedding early?’. But he didn’t care. He needed to go back home.

Maybe John’s armchairs still smelled like him. Maybe Sherlock could curl up on it and imagine John’s arms around him.

Maybe he would go to his room, lift the moving tile and meet an old friend.

 

 

[ [UPDATE: Day 26 is a fluffy fix-it, click here to read it and heal your poo soul :) ] ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4648392)

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this has broken my heart! T-T  
> Hope you liked it!  
> Maybe I'll write John's POV when my poor heart heals ^.^
> 
> xx


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